Lionhearts
by Blktgrrdrse
Summary: "Love is a game in the Circle. It's just another way for the Templars to control you." Aveline Trevelyan has spent most of her life in the Circle of Ostwick, cloistered away from her family and never exposed to the outside world. Falling in love was foolish. Especially if you sold your heart to a Templar. (M rating for inevitable later chapters)
1. Andraste's Chosen One

**A/N: Hello, fellow Dragon Age enthusiasts and wonderful readers of fanfiction!**

 **I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that I do not own Dragon Age or any affiliated IPs. I just thought it would be fun to do something for NaNoWriMo this year and I'm a fangirl.**

 **This is my first delve into the Dragon Age fanfiction universe, so, any suggestions are always appreciated! I love to hear the perspectives of other fans either via message or through the reviews!**

 **Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I hope that you all enjoy!**

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Chapter One

Aveline awoke to a strange pain in the back of her neck. She remembered...falling. And, then, there was simply nothing. She was afraid to open her eyes. She was afraid to even try to move. What if she couldn't? What if she discovered she was broken beyond her own repair? She knew some healing magic, but hardly enough to make a shattered back whole again…

She felt tears well up in her eyes as she continued to lay in the cold snow. She missed Dorian and Solas. The older mages had tried to teach her so much more than her Circle training had seen her learn. She had been foolish not to take their studies as seriously as they had wanted her to. If they were with her, they could simply mend her back to a capable fighting form in an instant.

But, she couldn't risk their lives against an Archdemon. She had stupidly told them to fall back and had struck out on her own. She could still feel the hot breath of the arch demon on her face, feel the magic Corypheus held over the mark as he seared her flesh. It was by sheer luck that she had managed to reach the trebuchet, had managed to cut the ropes and create the avalanche that inevitably buried her here She had been foolish to think that a mage, a member of the most hated people in all of Thedas, could save the world.

She was a complete fraud. The Mark was magic. Simply magic. Old, powerful, even...but it was just magic. Something hated and feared. What would the people think when they realized she wasn't the Herald of Andraste? They would shun her. She would even be thrown back into a prison cell again. She would once again be branded an apostate, interrogated once more about the magic which was slowly threatening to kill her, eating her alive from the inside…

She moved her leg, realizing it was twisted beneath her and immediately felt the hot tears spring to her eyes. It was broken. She knew that pain. But, if it wasn't completely ruined, she had to get up. She had to keep fighting. She couldn't give up and die here.

The snow was biting into her skin, numbing the tips of her gloved fingers. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a warrior, a mage. She was a member of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, a lady of House Trevelyan. And, even if the mark on her hand hadn't been granted by the Maker or by some higher authority, even if it wasn't a blessing...the mark -the Anchor, as Corypheus had called it- could still accomplish great things. She still wielded control over the Rifts.

And, most importantly...there were people who believed in her.

Had the Commander been able to get them out in time? Were the people of Haven safe?

Aveline could only pray they were. She knew the members of the Inquisition inner circle would protect them. They were in capable hands.

She took one more deep breath and clenched her jaw. She had to start moving. She had to drag herself up. She opened her eyes, steeled against the pain she knew was about to ricochet through her body, and rolled to her feet. She was lucky she was close to one of the walls of the small cavern she has been entombed in, or she might have fallen back to the ground. She had a hard time drawing in breath, a sign that left her certain that she had broken a couple of ribs. She steadied herself, watching the Anchor glow a bright, eerie green on the walls around her.

She remembered the combat training she had received at the circle. _Assess the damage_ , she reminded herself, _keep fighting._ She focused her mind on the areas of pain, concentrating to try and identify how terrible her injuries might truly be. Her ribs were throbbing, a dull ache that she knew too well. A few of them were broken, or, at the very least, cracked. She didn't think any of them had dislodged or put her in danger of puncturing her lung. She felt herself almost bite through her lip as she ran a hand over the leather armor on her side. Yes. They were definitely fractured. But, still in place. She would have to be careful. Her head hurt, specifically the base of her skull. She knew the pain, similar to falling off a horse. She had hit it on something during the fall. In glancing up, she was certain it was one of the splintered, wooden rafters that were now covered in a thick layer of snow. She gently reached for the back of her neck through her thick, dark hair and felt it matted with blood. She would have to worry about that later. It was the least of her concerns. She turned her attention next to her legs. Her left leg appeared perfectly functional, but her right leg had a gash across her upper thigh. When she tried to put weight on it, she whimpered. Broken femur. If she was lucky.

She nodded to herself. It could be significantly worse. She could be dead. Or incapacitated. And no one would ever find her.

She just needed to focus on that. She was alive. That meant she had a chance to keep fighting.

She pushed herself away from the hard stone of the cave wall. It would be painful, and she wasn't even sure where she should be going, but this was better than staying still, dying of exposure or from attacks by demons. The small comfort she had was that, with all of her injuries, the pulses of the Anchor were now barely noticeable as it lit her way. She was able to limp at a relatively normal pace on her injured leg, something she was grateful for. If meant she wouldn't be slowed down by the pain. The hope that the Inquisition had gotten out of Haven safely would keep her going.

Maker willing, she would find them. She wasn't sure where her plan would take them after that, but, she would find them.

 _Maybe you'll surprise it. Find a way…_

The Commander's voice whispered to her. She could see the concern in his eyes as she bid him farewell, a goodbye she had fully intended would be the last she would ever grant Cullen. She could have sworn he didn't want to leave her. Her gentle urging had kept him from staying.

She was pretty sure that any of her advisors would give their lives for the cause. They were all good people, devoted to the Chantry, most of them.

She stumbled, trying to put too much weight on her leg, falling to the cave floor. How had they fallen into her leadership?

She realized then that the cave had opened up, revealing a large split in the path. She paused, her breath causing a large cloud of steam to rise in front of her face. How was she to proceed? She could keep pressing forward, but that could take her deeper into the caves, leaving her even more lost. But, taking any of the side paths seemed a be less clear and harder to traverse. She could even see large banks of snow down one of the offshoots of the large opening. She sighed, exasperated. Of course, it couldn't be that easy.

With her injuries, she would benefit more from simply taking the path straight ahead. She wouldn't have to do any potential climbing or risk finding a dead end. It wasn't worth it to risk shifting one of her ribs and accidentally killing herself, or permanently crippling her leg by trying to drag the practically dead weight through a snow bank. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping it would preserve some amount of warmth in her body. The movement was helping, but she needed to get out of the cold soon.

She took a step forward, trying to balance her weight. The loud _crack_ that met her ears was not comforting. Aveline glanced down, ever aware of her movements. Ice. She was standing on what she hoped was a frozen lake. She took another furtive step forward. She just had to get across the room. That's all she needed. She would be safe as soon as she hit the other embankment . She just had to get there. It would be fine. She could do this. She might be completely useless magically without her staff, but she knew how to survive and she still had most of her magic, if she needed to risk using it. She would be fine. Completely fine. And soon, she would be wrapped in a giant fur that she was sure everyone had waiting for her, eating something warm and having Solas heal her wounds.

Her hand spasmed, the green magic shooting out of her hand toward the sky. She screamed, collapsing to the ice. When she caught her breath, she stumbled back to her feet. "A Rift?" she looked confused at the green, crystal prism that had formed above her. She barely acknowledged the demons spawning around her in her confusion. They wouldn't simply ignore her. She panicked and threw her hand toward the Rift, hoping she could disrupt the energy flowing to the demons long enough for her to escape.

But, that was far from what happened. When she tried to open the Rift wider, as she had in the past, it didn't disrupt the energy to her enemies. Rather, she watched as they cried in what appeared to be a mix of pain and anguish as they were pulled back toward the emerald in the sky. She was reversing the Rift. It was something she had never done before, never even thought to try. Was this because of Corypheus? Had he done something to the Anchor when he had tried to take it from her? Accidentally charged it and given her more power? His attempt to steal its power had inadvertently made her...stronger? Somehow?

Breathless and flustered, Aveline decided not to question it at the moment. She had more pressing concerns. Such as whether there were more Rifts here below ground. Making it to an Inquisition camp also was ranking highly on her list of priorities and should probably been at the very top if not for "self-preservation" and, the newly added, "avoid demon hordes at all cost".

Aveline quickly rushed across the lake, moving as closely to a sprint as she could muster. She made it across, stumbling through the large, ornate doorway on the other side, before she saw the light breaking through an opening in the caverns. She sighed her relief. With any luck, this was the same way the Inquisition had passed through. Maybe she wasn't far behind.

Even as she walked into the snow storm, the cold wind biting her face, she was grateful. Off in the distance, she could see a fire, still burning, though there was no sign of anyone near. She carefully trudged toward it, each movement through the snow making her legs numb as she sunk deeper and deeper into the fresh snow. The snow blinded her and she could barely see where her next step might land. She approached the fire, hoping that she could at least warm herself for a few moments before continuing on her path. She was anxious when she saw the fire was a burning wagon, some of the wood still barely touched by the flames.

Any casualties that happened at Haven were on her conscience.

The sight of the wagon made her feel ill. She was unsure if the people of Haven still lived, if there had been many casualties. She didn't even know what path she should take down the steep mountain slopes.

"Andraste guide me," she whispered to herself. There was no other option but to keep going. She had to remind herself that it was possible that the Inquisition was not very far ahead of her. They had to move a large amount of the faithful through the tunnel system. She was only one person. Injured, though she might be, it was likely that they were still close by.

The longer she climbed down the peak, however, the more she was sure that she would be lost to the Frostback Mountains. Her body ached and her pace slowed. She wanted to rest, but she feared that it would do her no good. She risked freezing to death at this point. She could barely move her legs through the snow. It must have been hours when she saw the remains of a watch fire. The embers were still warm, even in the fierce snow storm.

 _Just a little further_ , she urged herself, warring with the fear that she would never be found beneath the snow. She started to climb over an embankment, dragging her right leg now. A few more steps and the Inquisition would be in front of her. Surely…

Her foot caught beneath the snow, bringing her down into the new blanket of white. She wasn't going to make it. She couldn't move anymore. Her body was wracked with chills as the snow soaked through her armor. She had to give up now. There was never any hope for her. Herald of Andraste. She was no leader. She wasn't even special. She was just a mage.

"There she is!" She heard Cullen's voice over the howls of the wind and her own heartbeat in her ears. She felt someone pulled her out of the snow, gently pulling her upward. She clutched at their armor, desperate for warmth, her shaking hands digging into the cloak they wore.

She looked up at her Commander, desperation filling her eyes. "Please...don't leave me," she whispered, her numb fingers deftly trying to hold onto him. Her vision was too blurry to see him clearly or to identify his reaction. She feared this was the final burst of strength that she might have.

Strong arms wrapped around her, cradling her gently against his hard chest. "I won't," she heard the promise whispered to her, as gently as if he were speaking to a child. Her fingers relaxed, her entire body finally giving up. She was safe. They had found her. She didn't have to fight anymore. She could give up now. She could finally sleep.

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 **A/N: Reviews get a quote! Hopefully I can keep up with this for the month and we can see extremely frequent updates!**


	2. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**A/N: I am completely unaffiliated with Bioware. This is just a NaNoWriMo project so that I would actually write this down!**

 **Hello, everyone! Happy Saturday!**

 **So, as previous readers have probably realized, you guys are all reading this COMPLETELY UNEDITED! YAY! Or, not so much, as I went back and read the last chapter to edit it for myself and was horrified. Completely. This is mostly being typed on my cellphone in google docs and my autocorrect is terrifying. I'm so sorry!**

 **For my fellow grammar snobs, let me know if you would like me to start using my lovely beta before posting these chapters!**

 **I read this chapter before I posted it, but, I only read it very quickly and I didn't see any massive errors that impair reading (Unlike chapter one. Seriously, how did you guys WANT to keep reading after that? _). But, I also know what I was trying to say as this is from my own head...So, again, please tell me if you want me to make use of my beta! I'm sure she wouldn't mind!**

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Chapter Two

Cullen felt completely useless. He was more than capable of commanding an army and taking charge of a situation was second nature to him. He had even watched his fellow Templars die in battle next to him and had never thought much of it. But, watching as mages and Chantry took charge of Aveline Trevelyan, he felt a strange kind of anxiety. He had scarce made it back to the camp when she was ripped from his arms by a far too helpful Tevinter mage who rushed her to the makeshift surgery where he had scarce found a cot for the Herald of Andraste before he began stripping Aveline's slight form of her leather armor. He tied her long, deep brown hair away from her face with a skill that would have made Aveline jealous.

For a moment, Cullen could see the Herald's bare form and he felt himself blush a deep crimson. Even in the brief glance, he could see her right side was a mix of deep purple and green, bruised in patterns that would have made even the most hardened men cringe. The deep gash in her right leg had resumed bleeding and was soaking through the cot, though Cullen couldn't tell if it was from the movement of carrying her here or if it meant she was finally starting to return to a normal temperature. Though that appeared to be the worst of her injuries, Cullen noted that there didn't seem to be an inch of flesh that wasn't marred by a shallow scratch or bruise.

The elven mage Solas began work on his companion immediately, his hands glowing brightly with the magic that coursed through them. "She's bleeding internally," he said, clinically before he began to bark orders at Dorian Pavus in the same, nonchalant tone. Cullen didn't understand half of what was being said. He could only watch as Aveline lay unconscious, her body now wrapped in a bear skin that someone had found.

The entire process was chaos, if Cullen was being honest. Solas was banishing everyone from the tent except Dorian. The elf began to try and seal the wound on her leg, all while arguing with Dorian that it was unnecessary for him to strip of his robes and climb into the cot with her, despite the Tevinter's rather convincing -and correct- argument that it was the proper way to bring a person's temperature back to normal when they were hypothermic. Neither seemed to notice his presence during their work, or, if they did, they didn't seem to care. He was a shadow on the wall. In truth, he felt awkward, watching Aveline being lorded over in her sick bed.

This was not his place.

And, yet, her bright blue eyes had pleaded for him to stay with her. He remembered how small she had felt in his arms, clutching to his chest, her hands buried in the fur of his cloak. She was afraid. And he knew how she felt. He, of all people, knew what it was like to be at Death's doorstep and to feel that fear. It had been the first time he had ever seen her appear vulnerable. Even in chains, held in the dungeons of Haven, she had always had a ferocity to her gaze that simply garnered respect. But, there were so many facets to Aveline Trevelyan that he had only witnessed from afar. Her laugh as she and Josephine discussed her life in Ostwick's Circle, the smile she bestowed upon him when she would watch the army train from the steps of the Chantry, the way Lady Trevelyan would run her fingers over the scar just under her left cheekbone when she was embarrassed...aside from being the Herald of Andraste, Lady Trevelyan was special because she was just like everyone else.

She couldn't die like this…

"Your presence is not required here, Commander," Solas said, no hint of emotion daring to show through his voice. He didn't look up from wrapping her upper thigh in a thick bandage. There was something about the way he had spoken that made Cullen suspect that the elf did not care for his watching. As if it were any more inappropriate for him to be here than it was for the other two mages.

It was only then that Cullen noticed Dorian was gone. How long been daydreaming?

Cullen shook his head. "I made a promise that I would look after her. If you are finished…"

He was cut off. "Aveline needs to be looked after by someone who can actually keep her from dying if something should go wrong in the night, Commander Cullen. She is in a safe place in the Fade. I will let her advisors know the moment she awakes and is well enough to be disturbed."

There was a note of finality to the sentence that the former Templar wasn't sure he approved of. It wasn't that Solas was a mage, it was his attitude toward anyone who wasn't of the elven. He had a strange respect for Aveline and he knew he could trust him with her care, but his general disdain for everyone in the Inquisition didn't seem to agree with his insistence that he remain with them. He frightened most of the Inquisition, despite how readily he assisted the healers in the care of all of the soldiers and pilgrims. The elf was a paradox, one he was not sure he would ever understand.

He knew Solas was right, despite the draw he felt to stay with her. He would do her no good standing by her bedside, staring at her. He would do more good helping Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra plan their next move. They at least needed an update on her condition. As much as he hated to leave Aveline, helplessly floating in the Fade, his skill set was simply not as a healer. If he had been asked to slay a demon on her behalf, he may have been better off.

Cullen bowed his head. "I will inform the others of the Heralds condition, then. Please, inform us at the first sign of any change."

Solas nodded, never looking at the Commander. He was staring into the distance, perhaps checking on the woman before him in the Fade. Perhaps he was just trying to get Cullen to take his leave. Either way, Cullen excused himself from the surgery...and walked straight into the arguing voices of the other advisors.

He rubbed his temples. Maker's bride, this would be a long evening.

Aveline wasn't sure how long she had slept. Her body was stiff, which made her certain it had been quite some time since she had fainted on one of the Frostback Mountain trails. Her legs were both throbbing, though she wasn't sure if it was injury or exhaustion. But, her breaths were coming easier now. Solas must have been able to reverse most of the damage.

She opened her eyes, tentatively, noting the surrounding darkness of the makeshift surgery. Her head was throbbing. And, she couldn't help but wonder if it was caused by the argument that was becoming ever more heated just a few feet from her bed. She sighed, before carefully sitting up, ready to stop the quartet from going at each other's throats. They were supposed to be a war counsel, not a troop of children.

Aveline felt a gently hand on her shoulder. "Shh," Mother Giselle's calming voice reached her ears. She looked over at the Chantry Mother, who had seemingly been nursing her during her recovery. "You need rest, Aveline,"she said, helping her to sit up comfortably.

Aveline watched at Cassandra threw up her hands in frustration and stormed away. "They've been at it for hours. I could hear them in the Fade…"

Mother Giselle smiled at her gently. "They have that luxury, thanks to you." Mother Giselle turned it watch the crumbling argument defuse and Aveline followed her gaze. "The enemy could not follow and, with time to doubt, we turn to blame…" Aveline watched Cullen stalk away from the group as Leliana and Josephine distanced themselves. The Inner Circle was falling apart. "Infighting may threaten as much as Corypheus."

Aveline swung her legs over the edge of a cot and struggled to stand, only a fall back into the canvas. She groaned in frustration. "If they're arguing about what we do next, I need to be there," she said, feeling defeated by her injuries, yet again.

Mother Giselle shook her head. "Another heated voice won't help. Even yours. Perhaps, especially yours."

Aveline shook her head. With the heads of the Inquisition fighting as loudly as they were, Aveline was certain the faith of many of their followers had been shaken. At least they had stopped now...but they all looked...defeated. Leliana and Josephine sat secluded from the rest of the group, Leliana's pose defensive, as if she were going to strike out if anyone came near. Cassandra was pouring over maps, though the look on her face seemed more like she her head was a million miles away, stewing over the argument of a moment ago. The Commander didn't seem to quite know _what_ to do with himself and was pacing around the fire, like a caged beast. Usually, he was the one leaning over maps. Had the situation been different, Aveline might have smiled. As it was, she had to frown.

She noticed that she wasn't wearing her normal armor, then, but, instead, had been reduced to a warm, woolen undershirt and breeches. She wondered if her armor had been irreparable. She knew she had knicks and tears in it. Maybe Harritt had decided it wasn't useful to her anymore and would fix it when he could.

She supposed a secluded mountain pass wouldn't exactly have a forge, though…

Aveline was disgusted with their situation. Corypheus had dealt them a massive blow. He destroyed Haven and, with it, their morale. The Inquisition couldn't easily be repaired. Aveline felt her heart sink. This was ridiculous.

Mother Giselle took the opportunity to try to explain to the young mage why she shouldn't be disheartened, but, Aveline knew that wouldn't be an easy thing to overcome. "Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand...and fall. And, now, we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear...and the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure; what we, perhaps, must come to believe.

Aveline sighed. They were hailing her as some savior now? There was no point to that. They were only spreading more rumors about her that would, inevitably, reach their enemies. She wasn't a god, yet, she was being painted as one. "I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but, I didn't die." She tried to defend herself, as if their assumption that she had risen from the dead was something to offended by in the first place.

The Mother smiled gently. "Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw, or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know that the heavens are not with us?" Mother Giselle patted her hand, a sign Aveline supposed should have been comforting, but, it simply felt as if she were being patronized.

Aveline raised her gaze and looked over the encampment in the snow. How could they even think that this is what Andraste or the Maker would want for them? She took a deep breath, steeling herself, before she told the Chantry Mother the truth. "I know, in my heart...that I was meant for this. But, that didn't help at Haven." She shook her head, feeling the bitterness that she had felt when Corypheus had defeated her. "I want to believe Andraste is with me. But, doubt is everywhere."

Aveline roughly struggled to her feet, ready to storm upon the top members of the Inquisition and tell them all about how childish they were being. She knew it was childish herself to expect them to feel her wrath. She hadn't taken more than a couple steps when she heard the soft singing behind her.

She turned to Mother Giselle. The Chantry Mother had begun the hymn _The Dawn Will Come_ , a song that Aveline remembered from her days spent in the Chantry and from the services she had been forced to attend in the Circle. It had been one of her favorite hymns, but, to hear it now simply seemed ironic.

Aveline was surprised when she began to hear other voices join with Mother Giselle's, all singing the same hymn. It was both awesome and frightening to behold. Somehow, in the song, the people were united. Several of them came to bow before her, as if in prayer, as if she were an idol. The entire camp suddenly seemed to be in front of her.

And, with that, Aveline understood. Mother Giselle had been trying to tell her that these people needed her. That, even if she was not a savior, they saw her as one. She could still do something about Corypheus, about the Rifts. Even if she failed, she had to try.

"Faith is made stronger by facing doubt," the voice echoed beside her as Mother Giselle brushed past. "Untested, it is nothing."

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading this so far! I can't wait to read your comments! Again! Let me know it you want me to use my beta!**


	3. Skyhold

**A/N: This author is completely unassociated with Bioware and the Dragon Age franchise.**

 **Hello, again! I know this story isn't slow developing, I'm sorry! I am trying to keep it as close to Cullen's romantic route as possible, but, I am also making things up as I go along to develop their relationship. I hope that you guys are enjoying this. It's a pet project of mine and I am enjoying it.**

 **I love reading your reviews, guys! If you guys drop me a line, I respond to every single one.**

 **Thanks for reading this and enjoying this journey with me.**

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Chapter Three

It had been a week since Solas had guided them to Skyhold. Four days since they had declared Aveline Trevelyan the Inquisitor, leader of the new Inquisition. Construction on the new stronghold was already well underway thanks to the best of Orzammar's craftsmen, sent for by none other than the Inquisition's very own resident author, Varric Tethras.

Who also was apparently a high ranking member of the merchant's guild. And knew more people who owed him favors than Aveline cared to admit. It was scary, really. He was as scary as Leliana when it came down to it, but in a different manner.

Aveline couldn't believe how well things were falling together.

Though, she wasn't sure how she liked being declared leader of the Inquisition. It couldn't be helped, however, and she understood why they thought she would be the best choice for the position. The people of the Inquisition thought that she, Aveline Trevelyan, a mage, was their savior. The irony was wonderful if she cared to think about it enough. Now, she simply couldn't let them down.

Thedas was counting on her.

The pressure was terrifying. She had to keep a level head and choose the actions that would protect all of the pilgrims that had followed their lead. Too many "what ifs" spun in her head. She saw too many stares that spoke their judgement of her as she strolled through Skyhold. She saw that people were still afraid of her, as if they didn't know how to react to her. As if speaking to her would cause some cataclysmic destruction to occur.

She was fairly certain that she helped perpetuate any rumors by walking around Skyhold unchecked. She hardly ever strolled with one of her friends or advisors. If she was being perfectly honest, she hadn't slept in the week they had been here. Her dreams were plagued by Corypheus and fears of having her powers ripped from her. She was terrified to close her eyes sometimes.

Solas had offered his help, telling her that the spirits in the Fade were simply praying on her anxiety. He had begun to teach her to "Fade step," as he called it, allowing her to move freely in the Fade and control her surroundings. She thought it was endearing that he was trying to take away her fear of something he loved so much, but, it would take time. Until then, she would nod off reading a book or trying to write reports for her advisors. There was still much to do that would keep her mind off of her nightmares.

Aveline stared at the ceiling in her bedroom. So much had changed in a week. She realized she had fallen asleep on the floor of her chambers in a plethora of papers. She touched her face and realized it was smeared with ink. She let out a disgusted groan and looked out her windows. The sun had barely begun to rise over the Frostback Mountains, but there was little reason for her to remain on her floor, her long hair tangled in reports and quills, her skin and clothing smeared with deep colored inks.

She was quick to clean herself in her wash basin and pull off her now spotted clothing. Vivienne had called for her tailor from Val Royeaux to outfit Aveline. She was the Inquisitor, after all! She must look like royalty!

That lead to Aveline already having a bureau full of clothes with more on the way. As a Circle mage, she had always worn robes. In the last couple of days, though, she understood why the noble women who had visited her family when she was a child would say they had "nothing to wear".

She pulled on the first things her hand touched, leather breeches, a red chemise, and a leather vest. She tied a scarf around her neck to keep from catching a cold while she ran around the stronghold. She caught sight of herself in the only mirror in the entire room and frowned. Her clothes looked perfect. Vivienne definitely had fashion sense. But her face was still stained with ink. It took her nearly five minutes to determine that it wasn't quite as noticeable as she was imagining it was before she tore herself from the mirror and ventured out of her quarters.

Despite the early hour, people were already milling around the main hall of the fortress. Servants were preparing meals to be handed out to the refugees and the soldiers. Artisans were already working on reconstructing the main hall, reinforcing the old stone structure. Scouts were making their way out to start their patrols.

It was quite a colorful mix to behold.

Aveline skirted by most of them, giving the occasional "good morning" greeting as she made her way out to the streets. She smiled to herself. There truly were no boundaries on who joined the Inquisition. All it mattered was that they believed in their cause of restoring order.

Aveline made her way down the winding steps to reach the courtyard and sat herself on a ledge, watching the people slowly waking. Cullen was already across the courtyard, prepping his soldiers for their duties. Aveline smirked. He got as much sleep as she did. He looked up from his charts and she caught his gaze. Purple bruises were blooming under his eyes. She was sure she looked quite the same. She smiled at him, moving to wave, and he quickly looked away. Her feelings were slightly hurt...perhaps she had been mistaken and he hasn't seen her at all.

She noticed, then, a small child staring at her, not two feet away. She looked at him, curiously. "Good morning, my fine lad," she said, smiling. "You are up rather early in the morning!"

The boy's eyes grew wide, as if she had grown a second head. "You're the herald, ain't you?" The child looked frightened, as if her status were intimidating.

Aveline raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that's me," she murmured. "Is everything alright?"

The boy inched closer. "Are you really a mage?" he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.

She nodded. "Of course, I am." She had thought her status was simply a matter of public record at this point. Apparently not.

The boy inched closer still. "Can I ask you a question, Inquisitor?" Aveline nodded, but the boy had already begun to plow forward with his inquiries. "My dad says mages are bad. Why would Andraste choose someone like you to help us?"

Aveline, used to prejudices, simply shrugged. "Your dad's right. Some mages are bad. But, some of us, are just like you. We want peace in Thedas. And I think that's a noble goal, don't you?" the little boy seemed to consider, so Aveline decided to use a different example. "Mages are just like everyone else. There are good people, and there are bad people. Like there are good mages and bad mages." The boy nodded in understanding. "We can't blame magic for why someone does something they know they shouldn't. If I decided to set the grass on fire, that's not magic that did it. It was me. But," Aveline cast a small ice spell and whipped together a snowball. "Magic can do fun things, too!"

She tossed the snowball at one of the stone walls and watched the ice shatter in a million directions. Ah, ice magic. How she loved the snow. The boy looked on in astonishment. "Does this mean you can have snowball fights whenever you want?"

Aveline had to laugh at this. "I suppose so, yes!"

The little boy smiled, shyly. "Can we have one sometime?"

It was such a simple, touching request that Aveline wasn't sure what to make of it. She smiled, gently. "Of course. Whenever you want. My name is Aveline. What's yours?"

The boy was brimming with excitement at this. He was friends with the Inquisitor! Wait until the other children heard about this! "John."

Aveline nodded. "Well, John, I shall look forward to our snowball fight soon, then!"

Cullen was engrossed in the blueprints of Skyhold when he looked up to see her, sitting across the courtyard. The sun shone brightly against her hair, a halo of gold appearing around her head. He caught her eye and saw her smile beaming at him. He felt heat reach his face and quickly turned away. Surely she wasn't smiling at him like that…

But, the Commander couldn't help but to keep glancing at her. He watched her weave a snowball for one of the children that was playing in the courtyard. She looked so gentle, tossing the snowball, a smile still on her face.

Aveline Trevelyan was a wonder to behold. Why she made him feel like this, why he got flustered every time she glanced at him, he couldn't manage to keep his composure very easily...he didn't understand. He had yet to forget her clinging to him in the snow. She had been so desperate, so afraid. Did she remember that? How she begged him to stay with her?

He forced himself to ignore her. He had to pay attention to scout reports from the evening and give orders. And he couldn't do that if Aveline Trevelyan's beauty was distracting.

He knew she had approached because the attitudes of the men changed. They went rigid and kept glancing at her. He chose to ignore her. She used to watch the army train at Haven. Maybe she just had a secret passion for military tactics. "Send men to scout the area. We need to know what's out there."

Murmurs of "Yes, Commander," and "Yes, Sir," reached his ears. One of the new recruits stepped up to give him a report. "Commander, soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters."

"Very good," Cullen pulled paperwork aside to notated one thing off his list. "I'll need an update on the armory, as well…" the recruit kept glancing nervously at the Inquisitor, as if he was trying to draw attention to her. Cullen frowned and barked a quick "Now!" causing the recruit to jump and salute before running off.

Aveline stepped closer, looking over his shoulder. "What's all this?" She asked, nonchalantly taking a piece of parchment from the table he had set up to go over plans with the army. Cullen took a step backward, allowing her to see the plans laid out over the table.

Cullen was glad that the distance seemed natural, and not as if he were trying to avoid her. He cleared his throat and looked at the papers she was going over. "We set up as best we could at Haven, but we could never prepare for an arch demon...or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have…"

Aveline began to laugh loudly enough that he stopped. "Do you ever sleep?" She shook her head and put the papers down. "You're doing a wonderful job with the army. No one blames you for what happened at Haven."

Cullen knew that he wasn't to blame. He knew that the losses they suffered at Haven had caused a loss of morale, but it couldn't be helped. "If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw...and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready." Cullen finally looked back at her. She was carefully watching him, as if enthralled. He felt himself blush, and decided to keep moving ahead in the conversation. Why wasn't she saying anything? "Uh...Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

Aveline bit her lip. "Cullen, how many were lost?" The look in her eye told him that she was miles away, cataloguing the events of Haven.

Cullen wasn't sure how to respond to her. He couldn't validate her choice to stay behind. He was the last person who could tell her that she hadn't done the right thing. He rubbed the back of his neck, again, nervous at her presence. He hadn't been this nervous since Meredith had completely lost her mind. "Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse," he offered her, returning to the charts as a way of avoiding her gaze. When he saw that his words didn't seem to affect her, he continued. "Morale was low, but has greatly improved since you accepted the role of Inquisitor."

Aveline smiled. Cullen couldn't help but return her smile. Her emotions were infectious. "Inquisitor Trevelyan. It sounds odd, don't you think?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not at all."

"Is that an official response?" Cullen looked up from the papers. She seemed...playful. Flirtatious, even. Was that simply her nature? He truly hadn't spent enough time with her.

He laughed under his breath. "I supposed it is. But, it's the truth. We needed a leader. You have proven yourself."

He turned toward her, bowing slightly. He noticed her softened eyes, how she averted her gaze. "Thank you, Cullen," she nearly whispered. There was a long silence exchanged between them. Neither of them able to say anything. The Inquisitor broke the silence. "Our escape from Haven...it was close," she murmured, letting out a sigh. "I'm relieved that you...that so many, made it out."

"As am I," he said before he could think better of it. He averted his gaze, just as she had. Another long silence followed in which Aveline Trevelyan turned slowly and began to walk away. Cullen reached out toward her, words pouring out of his mouth. "You stayed behind. You could have…" It was enough to give Aveline pause, even though she only halfway turned back toward him. "I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word."

Aveline smiled. "Thank you, Commander. Truly. Thank you." She looked out over the courtyard, as if she were seeing so much more than the crumbling stones. "I...I know it's improper to ask," she started, "but, did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?" Cullen was confused for a moment. Why would it matter to her? She quickly tried to clarify. "Many of the soldiers are sending for their wives and families. I was just wondering if you had thought to send for anyone."

Cullen pursed his lips. "No, Inquisitor. I fear I made few friends there and my family's in Ferelden."

Aveline worried her lip, a habit he was becoming attuned to recognizing meant she was becoming frustrated with his lack of understanding. "No one special caught your eye?"

Cullen couldn't help but to smirk. "Not in Kirkwall."

Aveline barked out a laugh. "Careful, Commander, one might think you are flirting with me." Her blue eyes were sparkling, truly happy with her own joke.

"No! Of course not! I…" Cullen sighed. He was starting to think Aveline enjoyed making him blush. He shook his head.

Aveline winked at him. "I have some work to attend to...unless there's anything I can help with here," she suggested, sweeping her hand over the papers.

The Commander shook his head. "I think you've done enough to help today, but, thank you."

Aveline nodded, her smile still as bright as the sun. "I look forward to watching the army train, Commander," she said, practically skipping away from him, her hair still forming a halo of gold around her.

As she left, Cullen was happy he could breathe again. She was a menace to his work...and, yet, he still enjoyed her company. He sighed. Maker's breath. Lady Trevelyan was magic. He just couldn't determine whether she was good or bad.

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! Another update coming soon!**


	4. Trevelyan, the Mage

**A/N: Still not affiliated with Bioware, though the new Mass Effect looks wonderful!**

 **Hey, everyone! I promise I have more written than posted! I know this is short so I'll try to tie up the next chapter and post it in the next couple days! I'm sorry this fic is so choppy. I may revise it someday. But, for now, it's just a nanowrimo fic that I was working on. I'm sorry to disappoint with the terrible quality. My other fics are normally much more fleshed out. :( Feel free to read those, as well.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy this rather short conversation. I promise the next one will be humorous...I also promise someone getting punched in the face in a few chapters.**

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Chapter Four

He needed to wake up. These were the nightmares he dreaded most, the pleasantries they afforded him too much to bear. Aveline Trevelyan clutching to his bare chest, her breasts pressed against him. Her slender fingers traced the scars across his arms, her teeth teasing his throat. He wrapped his arms around her, reveling in the curves of her body. He knew he had to fight the dream, push her away, disrupt the demons who were praying on him.

But, he didn't want to.

She pressed her hips against him, aware of the way she affected him. How he wanted to grab her thick hair and pull her lips against his. She whispered his name, her melodic voice dripping with lust…

It took all of his strength to force himself awake, to not pull the demon closer. Damn the lyrium withdrawal! It was already causing him to descend into madness. He was covered in a cold sweat, but he knew his skin would be hot to the touch. At least he was able to wake up from the nightmare, to distinguish that it was not real.

He groaned and pulled himself from the bed, stumbling to his wash basin. This was ridiculous. Aveline Trevelyan was the Inquisitor. And a noblewoman on top of that. He rarely got to spend time with her unless it was in their war counsels or her occasional visits to watch the troops practice in which she seemed to purposely seek him out and question him. Not that he minded her distraction. She was a rather welcome one. It just seemed that she was scarcely ever in Skyhold. She was always off waging her own war. Even when the army could have just as easily handled a situation, it seemed that Aveline was always happy to lend her own magic to any worthy cause they encountered.

Perhaps, if he simply found an excuse to spend more time with her, he would be able to rid himself of this infatuation…

No. That was terrible idea. It was simple infatuation and it would disappear over time. She had little interest in him, he was sure. And to even approach her would be to draw more attention to his fascination than was necessary or appropriate. He threw the cloth he had been using to rinse the sweat from his body, though it missed his target entirely, landing on the floor.

He needed to forget these feelings he had for her. Perhaps even be cold to her. But, he knew that he could not allow her to consume his thoughts. He was the Commander of her army, a lyrium addict and an ex-Templar. He had nothing to offer her to even think of her as more than his superior.

What he needed was a distraction from his dreams. The sun had not yet risen over Skyhold. The training room of the armory would be empty, save maybe Cassandra who was as diligent in her training, as a Chantry sister. Destroying a few practice dummies would surely banish all further thoughts of her from his mind. Perhaps he would even be at ease enough to work on the reports that were quickly taking over his desk. The lyrium withdrawal had been affecting his ability to do his work the last few days. He needed to make sure that never happened again.

Cullen pulled on his armor, as quickly as possible. He would train and return to his duties after a quick bath. It was a simple routine he had repeated a hundred times. But, today, it couldn't be that simple.

He opened the door to his tower and found her, leaning against the battlements. Her hair was in a state of disarray, though she had clearly tried to pull it back into a braid, and her cheeks were flushed, streaked with drying tears. Even in the darkness of the morning, her bright blues eyes shone as they studied something on her hand. The Mark, maybe? She rubbed her eyes, throwing away another tear.

He could leave her. He learned from his sisters that it was sometimes best to leave a woman alone in a time of crisis. But, for whatever reason, he heard his promise to her "I won't leave you. I promise. Never." Somehow, he felt as if he were betraying her if he left her to face whatever this was by herself. He threw away the demons that had threatened him, forgot the lyrium he was craving. She needed someone with her more than he needed to forget her.

He approached slowly, trying his best to make noise and not startle her. He wondered what plagued her? She was strong, and beautiful...and there was so much hurt in her eyes. He stood at attention next to her and waited a moment. When she did nothing to acknowledge him, he spoke. "Did the Fade plague your dreams, as well?" She looked up at him, attempting a smile, but it was broken and forced. He frowned...and he watched as she dropped all of it aside and slumped back onto the stone barricades, defeated.

Aveline didn't look at him, as if she couldn' bit her lip and played with her fingers before she spoke. "Cullen...when you were in the Order...Did you ever speak to your charges in the Circle?" Cullen was taken back by the question. She wanted to know about his life as a Templar? The one subject he would rather avoid visiting in her presence and it was her interest?

Cullen straightened his spine. Mages disliked him on principle. Perhaps that was where this was leading. "We were expected to remain distant from the mages. I did have the opportunity to get to know a few of them, though. The Hero of Ferelden was one of my charges...I considered her a friend once."

Aveline smiled, bitterly. "Did she tell you how she found out she was a mage?" Cullen shook his head. Before he had the ability to say anything, Aveline's lyrical voice turned dark. "I was supposed to inherit my father's lands...his title. In the Free Marches, they didn't care if you were a woman. The eldest child always received the title after the death of their parents. My brothers were promised to the Chantry almost in infancy. And, Gaspard...Gaspard loved it. He wanted to be a Templar. He showed aptitude with a sword early and it was decided that the Chantry would take him in. But, Michael...he wasn't so lucky. He was always small and the other children were cruel."

Aveline shook her head and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. Cullen knew he was just meant to listen. This was something that she needed to be heard. And he could do that for her. "He used to tell me that I shouldn't get angry. He was going to be ok. He would be the best Templar in the Free Marches and I would be the most powerful noble and we wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. But, I didn't listen. I always had a temper. My family was entertaining Orlesian nobles when I found out I was a mage." Aveline laughed. "Their son was beating Michael. I watched as he kicked him over and over in the ribs. I got angry….and I tried to punch him. But my hand caught fire instead. I left an Orlesian noble permanently scarred and I was sent off to the Circle for my own protection." Aveline wrapped her arms around herself. "I haven't been home since I was seven years old. I used to see my brothers. Gaspard, especially. I used to be one of his charges. The first time I saw him in the Circle, I ran to him and embraced him. He slapped me, telling me to know my place." Tears were glittering in her eyes again. Cullen felt the urge to embrace her, to hold her until she pushed him away. She wasn't the Inquisitor, here and now. She was just Aveline. And she was fragile and beautiful and he...he couldn't stand to see the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I always wondered why I was such a monster that even my own family couldn't stand me."

Cullen gently touched her shoulder. "I think your family would be proud of who you are," he said, the only words of comfort he had. But, he knew she didn't need petty words. She was still worrying on her lip. Her pain made him unable to control his tongue and he blurted out half thought words that he knew he should regret. "I am proud of who you are. Whether you're a mage or not, you are brave and kind. I think you're the most impressive woman I have ever met."

That didn't have the desired effect. Far from making her feel better, he watched as she started laughing at him. He withdrew his hand and waited for her to attack him. Instead, her voice was soft through her laughter. "Cullen, that might be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Cullen was rigid as she turned toward him and quickly placed a kiss on his cheek. He felt himself turning a bright shade of red. "Don't be offended when I say, that you are the kindest Templar I've ever met." Aveline winked at him, clearly joking.

Somewhere, he felt a twinge of hurt. A Templar. She only saw him as a Templar. He was always going to be a threat to mages. He wished that her reaction had incited the death of his infatuation, that he didn't still feel enamoured by the way she moved her hair from her face or the way she tilted her head slightly when she was smiling.

He pushed aside everything. She was the Inquisitor. Nothing more. "My door is always open to you, Lady Trevelyan."

She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Thank you, Commander. You really are too kind to me. Please know that you are one of my few friends." The look in her eyes was desperate, as if she wished for some kind of validation from him. He wasn't sure what to say to her, then. He wasn't sure who I was speaking to anymore. She didn't seem like the warrior who cast magic without a thought, who rescued villagers from Darkspawn, and played with the children of her followers in every inch of Skyhold she could find to cause trouble.

She was just Aveline. Frail, beautiful, timid, and scared, Aveline. And all he could say was, "Thank you, milady."

She let go of his hand, her smile only slightly dimmer, and she turned to the sunrise. He watched the colors play on her face like a painting as she seemed to soak in the first few rays of sun as they came over the horizon. Abruptly, the moment was over and they returned to their separate worlds, once more. She was the Inquisitor and he was her Commander...and they were as separate as oil and water.

"I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Cullen," Aveline said, at last. "I'll see you in the War Council this afternoon." She gracefully spun on her toes and walked in the opposite direction from the barracks. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe there were some women that truly were impossible to forget...

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 **A/N: Comments bring me joy! Which bring you quotes!**


	5. An Ignorant Noble Learns About Spies

**A/N: I still do not own Dragon Age or I wouldn't have had to find a new job. ;)**

 **Hello, again! Thanks for sticking with me through this Nanowrimo, everyone! This chapter is much more fleshed out and longer, as I promised. I tried to edit it late last night, but forgive the few mistakes that inevitably slipped through!**

 **I love reading the comments I have been getting about this story and I hope to read many more!**

 **Thank you guys! See you at the end!**

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Chapter Five

There was something very wrong. Aveline didn't consider herself a very empathetic person, but she knew something strange was going on in Skyhold.

It started simply enough. Josephine kept insisting that Aveline must be present to welcome foreign dignitaries and wine and dine them. This meant that, for about a month, she was cooped up in Skyhold, sending her companions out to have fun while she suffered, pretending to be nobility. That was an unfortunate consequence of her position and she realized very quickly that she was, unfortunately, required to follow it. They were all young, idealistic men who wanted nothing more than to pretend they were fascinated by her work and it sickened her. She could have really been talking about anything and it wouldn't have made a difference. She could have been talking about overthrowing their governments with her very impressive army and she was sure it would go right over their heads. They were more content to ogle her than to actually pay attention to her words.

All this power and her face was still the most important thing.

Then she noticed that she wasn't receiving all of the reports that were supposed to be coming across her desk. She noticed this when she stumbled upon a few copies of them in Cullen's office, simply sitting on the edge of his desk. She nonchalantly asked him if she could read his copies of the reports one day as she had left hers in her room. The Commander seemed happy to oblige as he was becoming quite disconcerted by her constant presence in his office. There was no more of her simply running through to reach a destination and, instead, it seemed that she was purposely spending a few hours of her time with him every day. She was sure it was strange to him that she enjoyed his company, but, his close friendship also meant that she could do things like take the reports from his desk. To her surprise, upon comparing what was coming to Cullen and what made it to her, she noticed that the only thing missing from her reports were marriage proposals from various dignitaries and nobles who felt a marriage to Aveline Trevelyan would mean an alliance with the Inquisition.

It was then that she realized Josephine had been not so subtly trying to marry her off...and someone was stealing her reports…

Aveline wasn't honestly sure which concerned her more. Everyone in my Inquisition was privy to her reports, of course, but to have someone blatantly hiding from her marriage proposals from foreign dignitaries that _required_ a response per normal social etiquette was simply...well, for lack of a better term, it was rude. By not answering, she could offend entire countries! She could make enemies out of people whom, up until someone had started stealing from her, had been allies of the Inquisition. As their leader, and, as a nobleman, she understood why it was such a sought after prospect to marry the leader of the Inquisition. They had the most powerful army in all of Thedas and they were the most powerful peacekeeping force that had ever been seen. It was a calculated move on their part. She couldn't be upset with Josephine for trying to suggest that this might be a good diplomatic move.

Though, diplomatically, she had to confess...she would rather marry a horse.

Even if she _was_ interested in marriage, it was simply not the best choice for the Inquisition. They couldn't afford being tied to political alliances so closely. It would only entangle them in struggles and conflicts that were not their own. Aveline would never put Skyhold at risk in such a way. Nor was she willing to defer Inquisition matters over to someone else simply because they were male and felt they could rule better. It was a ridiculous notion all around to even think of permanently tying them to an alliance with anyone in Thedas. They -the Inquisition- needed to remain as unbiased as possible.

Now, there was still the all important question to be answered: who would want her marriage proposals?!

There were a few people that would be knowledgeable of all of the dealings in Skyhold who would be able to tell her who was stealing. She could simply ask Leliana who had been hiding the marriage proposals from her. But, for some reason, that didn't feel right. So, instead, she decided that she would go to the next best source.

Aveline decided to ask Varric.

She approached him on a whim, really. It hadn't been her intention at all to ask him to go over the details of espionage in the imperial court, but, it happened when she came and sat down at his table in Skyhold's throne room. Varric was thoroughly engrossed when she started to walk past, writing something, his quill paused over a large stack of parchment. Aveline smiled as she approached him, patiently standing behind one of the many chairs at his table. "Is this seat taken?" she jokingly asked, her gloved hand hovering over the sturdy wooden fixture.

Varric looked up from his work, his face surprised, as if he had forgotten that there were many courtiers milling around him. When he saw Aveline, he returned her smile. "For you, Peaches? Never!" He motioned her to sit next to him and he calmly put his parchment into a large leather satchel. "Did you need someone to talk your ear off? I think I can oblige!" Varric Tethras winked at her, as was the way of the Inquisition's resident dwarf. Varric had always struck Aveline as the most welcoming member of the newly formed Inquisition...when she was made their prisoner, at least. He had always treated her as if he knew she hadn't done anything wrong, almost as if she were his best friend before she was ever the leader of the second great Inquisition. And she thoroughly enjoyed that.

"What were you working on?" Aveline asked, motioning to the bundle of parchment. She was hoping it was one of his new stories...and not _Hard in Hightown._ Varric was a popular author in the Free Marches, but she was never a fan of that particular serial. She told him that she enjoyed it shortly after their first meeting, a way of being polite...and had been gifted with an entire advanced copy of the next chapter. She knew then to never lie to a dwarf. They would always figure you out at some point.

Varric sighed. "A new chapter of _Swords and Shields_. I think my editor is going to be waiting a long time. I just don't have the motivation to write a romance serial anymore. I must be losing my touch." He smiled at her, devilishly. "Say, Peaches. Why don't you go start romancing one of those princes that keeps asking for your hand? I'm sure _that_ could inspire me to write."

Aveline groaned. "I'm sure it would inspire me to drive a knife into some pampered nobleman." It was then that she realized Varric wasn't one of the inner circle who even read the reports. "How did you know about the proposals? I myself didn't know until two days ago!"

Varric laughed, almost to himself. "Oh, Peaches...when nobles start showing up from every corner of Thedas and you suddenly can't go out and get bloody with the other kids anymore, surely you realized something was amiss." He picked up his glass of mead and took a long drink. "It was either that or everyone in Thedas suddenly decided they wanted your head on a spit. You can see why I was hoping it was the latter."

Aveline felt her lips pull into a pout. Did everyone in Skyhold know about this? Was she the only one too dense to understand? "I take it that everyone knows about this, then?" She was slightly disheartened. She thought she was acting as a diplomat while she had really been being paraded like a showhorse.

Varric had the nerve to actually laugh, though she wasn't sure if it was the look on her face that made him react that way or if it was her naivety. "Calm down, Peaches. I'm sure Ruffles has no intention of marrying you off. She probably only let the proposals come through to you because it was _polite_ for you to be the one responding."

"That's the problem, though, Varric…" she worried at her lips. Maybe she should talk to Josephine. Josephine took care of everything… "I'm the only one who didn't receive these proposals." The dwarf said nothing, rather just let Aveline continue to worry her bottom lip and entangle her fingers in strange ways. "You're as well connected as Leliana is...maybe you would know. Why would someone want to steal my marriage proposals from my reports?"

The dwarf had to stop himself from laughing. Aveline saw it in the way he almost choked on his mead and still came away half laughing. "Peaches...you were raised in a noble house in the Free Marches and you mean to tell me it never occurred to you that one of your suitors had someone doing it?" Aveline tilted her head, confused. She had a admit, that was a thought that had never occurred to her. Seeing the blank stare on her face, Varric sighed, rubbing his temples with his stout hand. "Oh, Peaches…" he murmured, before he collected himself and carried himself like a tutor to her.

"Alright, Peaches. You're missing reports from your chambers, right? But the only thing you're missing is marriage proposals from foreign diplomats and nobles who want the Inquisition army at their disposal. That leads me to two assumptions. One: you have an admirer who stole those proposals because they want you to themselves. Now, the only person I can see doing that is Leliana, so, I'm going to rule that one out. Curly just doesn't have the guts to sneak into your room."

Aveline tried to interrupt and correct him on her relationship with the Commander, but Varric continued over her small cry of indignation. "Two," the dwarf emphasized, holding up his fingers, "One of your suitors knows how valuable a prospect you are. And not just your army. You've got beautiful curves and high cheekbones that would make the Empress of Orlais jealous, Peaches. Anyone who looks at you is taken by you. It's kind of obvious that there isn't just one government that's going to be vying for you."

Aveline felt herself blush. Varric didn't pull punches, just said things very bluntly. It made him a good advisor, quite frankly. She turned her head to try and hide the red creeping up her face, embarrassed by the compliment. "Then what do you do, if you're one of these governments?"

Varric shrugged. "Easiest way I see it is you cut out the competition. You send in the spies and make sure that only your proposal gets through to the Inquisitor's desk. And you make it the best looking one of the bunch, just in case your plan goes wrong. It's simplistic and it's old as time."

Aveline was concerned by this. Spies in Skyhold...and, to make matters worse, it had to be someone they trusted or they wouldn't so easily be able to get into her quarters. Not without someone noticing. She would have to speak with Leliana and see if she could offer more insight...and she would speak with the Commander about guard patrols. She couldn't quite take this matter lightly, though she supposed Varric was right. This happened all the time in a court. The one thing she didn't want the Inquisition to become, it had become.

Varric put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Peaches. It's nothing to worry about. I'll ask Nightingale to look into it for you, if you're that worried." The dwarf seemed to magically make a deck of cards materialize. "How about a games of Wicked Grace?"

* * *

It was late when she was summoned to the Commander's office. Cullen worked well into the night on the best of occasions, so, Aveline was not surprised to receive his missive. She had been going to simply place the sealed note on her desk until the morning, but she had a strange feeling it was important if he were calling for messengers. The contents of the note were a shock. Cullen requested an audience with her.

At her earliest convenience.

Cassandra had made mentions that Cullen had been considering stepping down from his post. Cassandra had said she would never allow it. But, for Cullen to request an audience with Aveline directly, as much as he seemed flustered by her presence, was unheard of. She pulled on her clothing as quickly as possible only because she felt showing up to the Commander's tower in her night gown might make people talk.

She tried to breathe. Perhaps he had been able to discuss the issue of spies within the Inquisition with Leliana and they had a report ready. That would explain the hour. The less people around to see their meeting, the less people would be able to grow suspicious. That must be it. It was nothing to worry over. Everything would be fine. Except, perhaps, she might find out who was going through her things.

Aveline was wrapped in a large cloak that she was tripping over as she rushed to the tower. Her heart was pounding as reached for the handle on the giant door…

Only to discover Dorian practically yelling at Cullen. "You're very dense if you don't understand the gravity of this, Commander. Not all of us are quite as dense as you pretend to be."

Cullen seemed angry and was clenching his fist at his side. "Tevinter, I don't see how it's any of your business at all." It was a terse statement, and, honestly, Aveline was sure that she had walked into a conversation that she wasn't supposed to be aware of. Aveline furrowed her brow. She wasn't sure if she should be announcing herself or if she should wait.

Aveline cleared her throat, pulling the cloak tighter around her. She was suddenly wishing she could simply disappear into it. "Am I interrupting?"

Dorian turned on his heel. "No, my darling. I was just leaving." Dorian clapped her on the shoulder on his way out. His face was twisted into an expression of exasperation. When the door slammed, Aveline turned her attention to Cullen week was still clenching his fists.

Aveline approached his desk, trying to figure out what Cullen could possibly be so wound up about. What had Dorian said? Of course, with Dorian, he could have said anything and Cullen would have been offended. Cullen and the Tevinter mage clashed over every topic of conversation the two seemed to come up with. Aveline had the distinct impression that the two of them would never get along, as much as she enjoyed the company of both of them. "Is everything alright, Commander?" Aveline looked at the desk to see if she could get a preview of what the Commander was going to tell her. Having the warning would make her feel better, but, she saw nothing. A wooden box on the corner and well organized chaos.

Cullen sighed. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "As leader of the Inquisition, you…" Cullen sighed, once more. "There's something I must tell you."

Aveline felt her lips pull into a pout. Her face was finally mirroring the worry she felt instead of the normal, cool, collected expression she wore. In the Circle, she had been taught how to suppress her emotions. For some reason, she felt truly pulled toward this situation. "Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen." She pursed her lips.

Cullen nodded, smiling, slightly. "Right. Thank you." Cullen walked behind his desk and opened up the wooden box which Aveline now saw was one of the religious cases that she had seen the Templars carry in the Circle. Aveline looked over the lid and saw the vial or raw lyrium along with its various paraphernalia. She knew all Templars needed lyrium, she just hadn't ever actually been this close to it. Lyrium was dangerous because of how it enhanced a mage's powers. It could kill anyone if they ingested too much of it. Especially anyone who didn't have magical ability. "Lyrium grants Templars our abilities. It controls us as well." Cullen ran his hand over the items in a box. "Those cut off suffer. Some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source for the Templars here. But, I...am no longer taking it."

Aveline was surprised by this. Cullen was no longer taking lyrium? It granted him abilities to neutralize magic and fight through massive amounts of pain...but he had stopped. "You stopped?" She repeated the obvious disclosure over. She couldn't quite grasp what she was hearing. And, a part of her felt angry. Not taking the lyrium could kill him.

Cullen nodded. "When I joined the Inquisition." The Commander closed the box, a note of finality in it. "It's been months now."

Aveline reached out, as if to touch him. But she quickly withdrew her hand, realizing that the sentiment was inappropriate. "Cullen, if this can kill you…"

Cullen smiled, shaking his head. "It hasn't yet." He began pacing around the room. "After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't. I will not a bound to the Order, or that life, any longer." Cullen clasped his hands together. "Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But, I will not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to watch me." His tone became dark and serious. "If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."

Aveline lowered her gaze to the floor. "Oh," she said, softly. She hoped it wasn't audible. When she looked back at the Commander, he could see the pain in her eyes, fear, worry...so many emotions were etched into her deep blue eyes. "Are you in pain?"

Cullen wanted to say "no" simply a make the pitying look on her face go away. He nodded to her respectfully. "I can endure it."

Aveline smiled in a gentle manner. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Thank you for telling me this, Cullen. I respect what you're doing."

Cullen looked at her hand on his shoulder. He lightly brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. "Thank you, Inquisitor." Aveline felt her heart flutter and she recoiled, clasping her hands together again. Cullen cleared his throat, taking a step back. "The Inquisition army must always take priority. Should anything happen...I will defer to Cassandra's judgement."

Aveline nodded. Once more, Aveline gave him a stunning smile, as if they had not just discussed that he could potentially be killing himself by making this decision. "I will trust Cassandra's judgement."

For a long moment, the pair stood in silence. Aveline wasn't sure what else to say, and she knew Cullen was a man of...very few words. Finally Aveline lowered her gaze and turned on her toes. "Have a good evening, Commander." She smiled. "If you need anything…" Cullen nodded, understanding clear.

Cullen watched Aveline as she gathered her cloak up and rushed from the tower. He hated that look on her face, the pitying emotion he saw there. Maybe, it would have been best if he hadn't told her. But, this way, she could make her own assumptions. This way, she could reject him quite easily on her own without his ever having to confess the feelings he was developing for her. He had rid himself of two problems at once, he supposed. Even if he felt disappointed to know her smiling face would never come bursting through the door to his tower again "just for the company".

Cullen sighed and slumped into his chair. _Maker's breath._ What had he done?

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 **A/NN: I hope you guys liked it! Reviews get quotes from the next chapter from yours truly! I love reading your opinions!**


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